The Guilt Trip Novels & Stories

Azerbel answered quietly, “but I don’t think I want to go out.” Even while saying it, guilt crawled through her chest again. Lately, guilt followed her everywhere. She felt guilty for refusing people. Guilty for being weak. Guilty for not trusting them. Guilty for making everyone worry. Sometimes she even felt guilty simply for breathing while Genaro was risking his life somewhere else. Her thoughts had become a prison she could no longer escape. Round and round. Fear. Sadness. Guilt. Again. Again. Again. And the terrifying part was that no one around her could truly see how bad it had become.

“I know you’re not asleep. Suit yourself if you’re angry. I just want to know if I did something wrong?” Because this guilt was making me feel anxious. If it really wasn’t my fault, I wouldn’t have to deal with these feelings and could sleep like everything was fine. “No,” Damian replied in a hoarse voice. “Okay.” He said no. But for some reason, my guilt hasn’t gone away. I reached for my phone on the bedside table and checked my notifications. Nothing important. So I just killed time by watching videos, deliberately keeping the sound on and the screen brightness at maximum so Damian would be a little annoyed.

He came forward and sat on the bed. "Sometimes we do things that we never forgive ourselves for. And go on a guilt trip. I know the pain can be devastating but doing this to yourself, putting yourself in pain so you can come over the guilt, is just plainly unjust." Dad patted his hand and motioned him to come over near him. He hugged him as he came forward, pulling me along with him. "Now, run along. Today is the James Ball. You have to go there" He patted us on the back.

This isn’t over, that look says. The door closes behind him. And only then do I realize I haven’t breathed for half a minute. John turns to me. “You okay?” “Yeah… just tired.” People say guilt hits like lightning. Fast. Brutal. They’re wrong. Guilt seeps in like a scent that won’t leave your skin. Like sheets that cover you but don’t warm you. Like fire that doesn’t burn—but stays. We lie down. He pulls me close, an arm tight around my waist, confident. His breath evens out. Mine doesn’t.

He motioned to wipe it but I grabbed his hand stopping him. "Don't... just don't" I wiped it away myself. I could feel his gaze on me. I could see how he was feeling about this whole situation. I turned to face him. A sense of guilt on appeared on his face as he examined the body. He sighed, his hand on his temple. "I'm fine" I said fixing my bodysuit. But I wasn't. I wanted to go get a shower. I wanted to erase his touches of my skin. I didn't want to be again stigmatized.

LENNOX HALE I found a way to… Guilt had a voice. I didn’t know that before. I thought guilt was just that tight feeling in the chest, the one you ignored until it went away. But this one talked. It clawed. It paced inside my head like my wolf had nowhere to lie down. You were wrong. That was what it kept saying. You were cruel to the wrong person. I tried to drown it out. Training harder. Snapping at people. Laughing louder than usual. None of it worked.

MY body prickling all over with the intensity of anxiety from listening to this. “I made a mistake in letting you work here all this time. Brushing over what I knew you were holding on for and ignoring it no matter how many times you said it. …. You talk about guilt… then that’s what this is. My guilt isn’t causing me confusion where Sohla is concerned… my guilt kept you around for these past two years because I felt sorry for you. Sorry about what I did. Responsible for the mess I created, the shitty outcome, and I let you stay, so I didn’t feel so bad about one aspect in how it all turned out. Abandoning you after starting something that should never have been. There was no other reason.”

If he doesn’t get help soon, it could get worse. A heavy weight settled in my chest. [ Seems like you’re the reason he ended up like this, ] Ice added, her voice carrying a hint of guilt-tripping. Her words hit me harder than I expected. "Thanks for the guilt trip, Ice. That really helps," I said sarcastically before ending the call.

Maybe this is how you fix it. Maybe you try harder. Maybe you stop drifting. Maybe the problem is you. Maybe you are the one already halfway out the door. Guilt is a powerful persuader. I crossed my arms lightly, not defensively — just to hold myself together. “If we do this,” I said slowly, “it has to be because we both want it. Not because it’s strategic.” His jaw tightened slightly. “It’s not strategic.” It absolutely was. But he believed himself. That made it worse.

The silence on the other end of the line feels like a door slamming shut. Guilt washes over me, heavy and suffocating. It clouds my mind, making me forget about everything else, including how Tony’s friends found out about his injury and other details about my life. The betrayal stings, but the guilt is worse. I feel responsible for the mess, as if my very existence is a scandal waiting to happen.